Kitabı oku: «Uncle's Dream; and The Permanent Husband», sayfa 5
CHAPTER VII
Maria Alexandrovna's genius had conceived a great and daring project.
To marry her daughter to a rich man, a prince, and a cripple; to marry her secretly, to take advantage of the senile feebleness of her guest, to marry her daughter to this old man burglariously, as her enemies would call it, – was not only a daring, it was a downright audacious, project.
Of course, in case of success, it would be a profitable undertaking enough; but in the event of non-success, what an ignominious position for the authors of such a failure.
Maria Alexandrovna knew all this, but she did not despair. She had been through deeper mire than this, as she had rightly informed Zina.
Undoubtedly all this looked rather too like a robbery on the high road to be altogether pleasant; but Maria Alexandrovna did not dwell much on this thought. She had one very simple but very pointed notion on the subject: namely, this – “once married they can't be unmarried again.”
It was a simple, but very pleasant reflection, and the very thought of it gave Maria Alexandrovna a tingling sensation in all her limbs. She was in a great state of agitation, and sat in her carriage as if on pins and needles. She was anxious to begin the fray: her grand plan of operations was drawn up; but there were thousands of small details to be settled, and these must depend upon circumstances. She was not agitated by fear of failure – oh dear, no! all she minded was delay! she feared the delay and obstructions that might be put in her way by the Mordasoff ladies, whose pretty ways she knew so well! She was well aware that probably at this moment the whole town knew all about her present intentions, though she had not revealed them to a living soul. She had found out by painful experience that nothing, not the most secret event, could happen in her house in the morning but it was known at the farthest end of the town by the evening.
Of course, no anticipation, no presentiment, deterred or deceived Maria Alexandrovna: she might feel such sensations at times, but she despised them. Now, this is what had happened in the town this morning, and of which our heroine was as yet only partly informed. About mid-day, that is, just three hours after the prince's arrival at Mordasoff, extraordinary rumours began to circulate about the town.
Whence came they? Who spread them? None could say; but they spread like wild-fire. Everyone suddenly began to assure his neighbour that Maria Alexandrovna had engaged her daughter to the prince; that Mosgliakoff had notice to quit, and that all was settled and signed, and the penniless, twenty-three-year-old Zina was to be the princess.
Whence came this rumour? Could it be that Maria Alexandrovna was so thoroughly known that her friends could anticipate her thoughts and actions under any given circumstances?
The fact is, every inhabitant of a provincial town lives under a glass case; there is no possibility of his keeping anything whatever secret from his honourable co-dwellers in the place. They know everything; they know it, too, better than he does himself. Every provincial person should be a psychologist by nature; and that is why I have been surprised, often and often, to observe when I am among provincials that there is not a great number of psychologists – as one would expect, – but an infinite number of dreadful asses. However, this a digression.
The rumour thus spread, then, was a thunder-like and startling shock to the Mordasoff system. Such a marriage – a marriage with this prince – appeared to all to be a thing so very desirable, so brilliant, that the strange side of the affair had not seemed to strike anyone as yet!
One more circumstance must be noticed. Zina was even more detested in the place than her mother; why, I don't know. Perhaps her beauty was the prime cause. Perhaps, too, it was that Maria Alexandrovna was, as it were, one of themselves, a fruit of their own soil: if she was to go away she might even be missed; she kept the place alive more or less – it might be dull without her! But with Zina it was quite a different matter: she lived more in the clouds than in the town of Mordasoff. She was no company for these good people; she could not pair with them. Perhaps she bore herself towards them, unconsciously though, too haughtily.
And now this same Zina, this haughty girl, about whom there were certain scandalous stories afloat, this same Zina was to become a millionaire, a princess, and a woman of rank and eminence!
In a couple of years she might marry again, some duke, perhaps, or a general, maybe a Governor; their own Governor was a widower, and very fond of the ladies! Then she would be the first lady of their province! Why, the very thought of such a thing would be intolerable: in fact, this rumour of Zina's marriage with the prince aroused more irritation in Mordasoff than any other piece of gossip within the memory of man!
People told each other that it was a sin and a shame, that the prince was crazy, that the old man was being deceived, caught, robbed – anything you like; that the prince must be saved from the bloodthirsty talons he had floundered into; that the thing was simply robbery, immorality. And why were any others worse than Zina? Why should not somebody else marry the prince?
Maria Alexandrovna only guessed at all this at present – but that was quite enough. She knew that the whole town would rise up and use all and every means to defeat her ends. Why, they had tried to “confiscate” the prince already; she would have to retrieve him by force, and if she should succeed in luring or forcing him back now, she could not keep him tied to her apron-strings for ever. Again, what was to prevent this whole troop of Mordasoff gossips from coming en masse to her salon, under such a plausible plea, too, that she would not be able to turn them out. She knew well that if kicked out of the door these good people would get in at the window – a thing which had actually happened before now at Mordasoff.
In a word, there was not an hour, not a moment to be lost; and meanwhile things were not even begun. A brilliant idea now struck Maria Alexandrovna. We shall hear what this idea was in its proper place, meanwhile I will only state that my heroine dashed through the streets of Mordasoff, looking like a threatening storm-cloud as she swept along full of the stern and implacable resolve that the prince should come back if she had to drag him, and fight for him; and that all Mordasoff might fall in ruins but she should have her way!
Her first move was successful – it could not have been more so.
She chanced to meet the prince in the street, and carried him off to dinner with her.
If my reader wishes to know how this feat was accomplished with such a circle of enemies about and around her, and how she managed to make such a fool of Mrs. Antipova, then I must be allowed to point out that such a question is an insult to Maria Alexandrovna. As if she were not capable of outwitting any Antipova that ever breathed!
She simply “arrested” the prince at her rival's very door, as he alighted there with Mosgliakoff, in spite of the latter's terror of a scandal, and in spite of everything else; and she popped the old man into the carriage beside her. Of course the prince made very little resistance, and as usual, forgot all about the episode in a couple of minutes, and was as happy as possible.
At dinner he was hilarious to a degree; he made jokes and fun, and told stories which had no ends, or which he tacked on to ends belonging to other stories, without remarking the fact.
He had had three glasses of champagne at lunch at Natalie Dimitrievna's. He now took more wine, and his old head whirled with it. Maria Alexandrovna plied him well. The dinner was very good: the mistress of the house kept the company alive with most bewitching airs and manners, – at least so it should have been, but all excepting herself and the prince were terribly dull on this occasion. Zina sat silent and grave. Mosgliakoff was clearly off his feed: he was very thoughtful; and as this was unusual Maria Alexandrovna was considerably anxious about him. The widow looked cross and cunning; she continually made mysterious signs to Mosgliakoff on the sly; but the latter took no notice of them.
If the mistress herself had not been so amiable and bewitching, the dinner party might have been mistaken for a lunch at a funeral!
Meanwhile Maria Alexandrovna's condition of mind was in reality excited and agitated to a terrible degree. Zina alone terrified her by her tragic look and tearful eyes. And there was another difficulty – for that accursed Mosgliakoff would probably sit about and get in the way of business! One could not well set about it with him in the room!
So, Maria Alexandrovna rose from the table in some agitation.
But what was her amazement, her joyful surprise, when Mosgliakoff came up to her after dinner, of his own accord, and suddenly and most unexpectedly informed her that he must – to his infinite regret – leave the house on important business for a short while.
“Why, where are you going to?” she asked, with great show of regret.
“Well, you see,” began Mosgliakoff, rather disconcerted and uncomfortable, “I have to —may I come to you for advice?”
“What is it – what is it?”
“Why, you see, my godfather Borodueff – you know the man; I met him in the street to-day, and he is dreadfully angry with me, says I am grown so proud, that though I have been in Mordasoff three times I have never shown my nose inside his doors. He asked me to come in for a cup of tea at five – it's four now. He has no children, you know, – and he is worth a million of roubles —more, they say; and if I marry Zina – you see, – and he's seventy years old now!”
“Why, my good boy, of course, of course! – what are you thinking of? You must not neglect that sort of thing – go at once, of course! I thought you looked preoccupied at dinner. You ought to have gone this morning and shewn him that you cared for him, and so on. Oh, you boys, you boys!” cried Maria Alexandrovna with difficulty concealing her joy.
“Thanks, thanks, Maria Alexandrovna! you've made a man of me again! I declare I quite feared telling you – for I know you didn't think much of the connection. – He is a common sort of old fellow, I know! So good-bye – my respects to Zina, and apologies – I must be off, of course I shall be back soon!”
“Good-bye – take my blessing with you; say something polite to the old man for me; I have long changed my opinion of him; I have grown to like the real old Russian style of the man. Au revoir, mon ami, au revoir!”
“Well, it is a mercy that the devil has carried him off, out of the way!” she reflected, flushing with joy as Paul took his departure out of the room. But Paul had only just reached the hall and was putting on his fur coat when to him appeared – goodness knows whence – the widow, Nastasia Petrovna. She had been waiting for him.
“Where are you going to?” she asked, holding him by the arm.
“To my godfather Borodueff's – a rich old fellow; I want him to leave me money. Excuse me – I'm in rather a hurry!”
Mosgliakoff was in a capital humour!
“Oh! then say good-bye to your betrothed!” remarked the widow, cuttingly.
“And why ‘good-bye’?”
“Why; you think she's yours already, do you? and they are going to marry her to the prince! I heard them say so myself!”
“To the prince? Oh, come now, Nastasia Petrovna!”
“Oh, it's not a case of 'come now' at all! Would you like to see and hear it for yourself? Put down your coat, and come along here, – this way!”
“Excuse me, Nastasia Petrovna, but I don't understand what you are driving at!”
“Oh! you'll understand fast enough if you just bend down here and listen! The comedy is probably just beginning!”
“What comedy?”
“Hush! don't talk so loud! The comedy of humbugging you. This morning, when you went away with the prince, Maria Alexandrovna spent a whole hour talking Zina over into marrying the old man! She told her that nothing was easier than to lure the prince into marrying her; and all sorts of other things that were enough to make one sick! Zina agreed. You should have heard the pretty way in which you were spoken of! They think you simply a fool! Zina said plump out that she would never marry you! Listen now, listen!”
“Why – why – it would be most godless cunning,” Paul stammered, looking sheepishly into Nastasia's eyes.
“Well, just you listen – you'll hear that, and more besides!”
“But how am I to listen?”
“Here, bend down here. Do you see that keyhole!”
“Oh! but, Nastasia Petrovna, I can't eavesdrop, you know!”
“Oh, nonsense, nonsense! Put your pride in your pocket! You've come, and you must listen now!”
“Well, at all events – ”
“Oh! if you can't bear to be an eavesdropper, let it alone, and be made a fool of! One goes out of one's way solely out of pity for you, and you must needs make difficulties! What is it to me? I'm not doing this for myself! I shall leave the house before night, in any case!”
Paul, steeling his heart, bent to the keyhole.
His pulses were raging and throbbing. He did not realise what was going on, or what he was doing, or where he was.
CHAPTER VIII
“So you were very gay, prince, at Natalia Dimitrievna's?” asked Maria Alexandrovna, surveying the battlefield before her; she was anxious to begin the conversation as innocently as possible; but her heart beat loud with hope and agitation.
After dinner the Prince had been carried off to the salon, where he was first received in the morning. Maria Alexandrovna prided herself on this room, and always used it on state occasions.
The old man, after his six glasses of champagne, was not very steady on his legs; but he talked away all the more, for the same reason.
Surveying the field of battle before the fray, Maria Alexandrovna had observed with satisfaction that the voluptuous old man had already begun to regard Zina with great tenderness, and her maternal heart beat high with joy.
“Oh! ch – charming – very gay indeed!” replied the prince, “and, do you know, Nat – alia Dimitrievna is a wo – wonderful woman, a ch – charming woman!”
Howsoever busy with her own high thoughts and exalted ideas, Maria Alexandrovna's heart waxed wrathful to hear such a loud blast of praise on her rival's account.
“Oh! Prince,” she began, with flashing eyes, “if Natalia Dimitrievna is a charming woman in your eyes, then I really don't know what to think! After such a statement, dear Prince, you must not claim to know society here – no, no!”
“Really! You sur – pr – prise me!”
“I assure you – I assure you, mon cher Prince! Listen Zina, I must just tell the prince that absurd story about what Natalia Dimitrievna did when she was here last week. Dearest prince, I am not a scandal-monger, but I must, I really must tell you this, if only to make you laugh, and to show you a living picture, as it were, of what people are like in this place! Well, last week this Natalia Dimitrievna came to call upon me. Coffee was brought in, and I had to leave the room for a moment – I forget why – at all events, I went out. Now, I happened to have remarked how much sugar there was in the silver sugar basin; it was quite full. Well, I came back in a few minutes – looked at the sugar basin, and! – three lumps – three little wretched lumps at the very bottom of the basin, prince! – and she was all alone in the room, mind! Now that woman has a large house of her own, and lots of money! Of course this is merely a funny story – but you can judge from this what sort of people one has to deal with here!”
“N – no! you don't mean it!” said the prince, in real astonishment. “What a gr – eedy woman! Do you mean to say she ate it all up?”
“There, prince, and that's your ‘charming woman!’ What do you think of that nice little bit of lady-like conduct? I think I should have died of shame if I had ever allowed myself to do such a dirty thing as that!”
“Ye – yes, ye – yes! but, do you know, she is a real ‘belle femme’ all the same!”
“What! Natalia Dimitrievna? My dear prince; why, she is a mere tub of a woman! Oh! prince, prince! what have you said? I expected far better taste of you, prince!”
“Ye – yes, tub – tub, of course! but she's a n – nice figure, a nice figure! And the girl who danced – oh! a nice figure too, a very nice figure of a wo – woman!”
“What, Sonia? Why she's a mere child, prince? She's only thirteen years old.”
“Ye – yes, ye – yes, of course; but her figure de – velops very fast – charming, charming! And the other da – ancing girl, she's de – veloping too – nicely: she's dirty rather – she might have washed her hands, but very at – tractive, charming!” and the prince raised his glass again and hungrily inspected Zina. “Mais quelle charmante personne!– what a lovely girl!” he muttered, melting with satisfaction.
“Zina, play us something, or – better still, sing us a song! How she sings, prince! she's an artiste – a real artiste; oh if you only knew, dear prince,” continued Maria Alexandrovna, in a half whisper, as Zina rose to go to the piano with her stately but quiet gait and queenly composure, which evidently told upon the old man; “if you only knew what a daughter that is to me! how she can love; how tender, how affectionate she is to me! what taste she has, what a heart!”
“Ye – yes! ye – yes! taste. And do you know, I have only known one woman in all my life who could compare with her in love – liness. It was the late C – ountess Nainsky: she died thirty years ago, a w – onderful woman, and her beauty was quite sur – passing. She married her co – ook at last.”
“Her cook, prince?”
“Ye – yes, her cook, a Frenchman, abroad. She bought him a count's title a – broad; he was a good-looking fellow enough, with little moustaches – ”
“And how did they get on?”
“Oh, very well indeed; however, they p – arted very soon; they quarrelled about some sa – sauce. He robbed her – and bo – olted.”
“Mamma, what shall I play?” asked Zina.
“Better sing us something, Zina. How she sings, prince! Do you like music?”
“Oh, ye – yes! charming, charming. I love music pass – sionately. I knew Beethoven, abroad.”
“Knew Beethoven!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, ecstatically. “Imagine, Zina, the prince knew Beethoven! Oh, prince, did you really, really know the great Beethoven?”
“Ye – yes, we were great friends, Beet – hoven and I; he was always taking snuff – such a funny fellow!”
“What, Beethoven?”
“Yes, Beethoven; or it may have been some other German fellow – I don't know; there are a great many Germans there. I forget.”
“Well, what shall I sing, mamma?” asked Zina again.
“Oh Zina darling, do sing us that lovely ballad all about knights, you know, and the girl who lived in a castle and loved a troubadour. Don't you know! Oh, prince, how I do love all those knightly stories and songs, and the castles! Oh! the castles, and life in the middle ages, and the troubadours, and heralds and all. Shall I accompany you, Zina? Sit down near here, prince. Oh! those castles, those castles!”
“Ye – yes, ye – yes, castles; I love ca – astles too!” observed the prince, staring at Zina all the while with the whole of his one eye, as if he would like to eat her up at once. “But, good heavens,” he cried, “that song! I know that s – song. I heard that song years – years ago! Oh! how that song reminds me of so – omething. Oh, oh.”
I will not attempt to describe the ecstatic state of the prince while Zina sang.
She warbled an old French ballad which had once been all the fashion. Zina sang it beautifully; her lovely face, her glorious eyes, her fine sweet contralto voice, all this went to the prince's heart at once; and her dark thick hair, her heaving bosom, her proud, beautiful, stately figure as she sat at the piano, and played and sang, quite finished him. He never took his eyes off her, he panted with excitement. His old heart, partially revivified with champagne, with the music, and with awakening recollections (and who is there who has no beloved memories of the past?), his old heart beat faster and faster. It was long since it had last beat in this way. He was ready to fall on his knees at her feet, when Zina stopped singing, and he was almost in tears with various emotions.
“Oh, my charming, charming child,” he cried, putting his lips to her fingers, “you have ra – vished me quite – quite! I remember all now. Oh charming, charming child! – ”
The poor prince could not finish his sentence.
Maria Alexandrovna felt that the moment had arrived for her to make a move.
“Why, why do you bury yourself alive as you do, prince?” she began, solemnly. “So much taste, so much vital energy, so many rich gifts of the mind and soul – and to hide yourself in solitude all your days; to flee from mankind, from your friends. Oh, it is unpardonable! Prince, bethink yourself. Look up at life again with open eyes. Call up your dear memories of the past; think of your golden youth – your golden, careless, happy days of youth! Wake them, wake them from the dead, Prince! and wake yourself, too; and recommence life among men and women and society! Go abroad – to Italy, to Spain, oh, to Spain, Prince! You must have a guide, a heart that will love and respect, and sympathize with you! You have friends; summon them about you! Give the word, and they will rally round you in crowds! I myself will be the first to throw up everything, and answer to your cry! I remembered our old friendship, my Prince; and I will sacrifice husband, home, all, and follow you. Yes, and were I but young and lovely, like my daughter here, I would be your fellow, your friend, your wife, if you said but the word!”
“And I am convinced that you were a most charming creature in your day, too!” said the prince, blowing his nose violently. His eyes were full of tears.
“We live again in our children,” said Maria Alexandrovna, with great feeling. “I, too, have my guardian angel, and that is this child, my daughter, Prince, the partner of my heart and of all my thoughts! She has refused seven offers because she is unwilling to leave me! So that she will go too, when you accompany me abroad.”
“In that case, I shall certainly go abroad,” cried the prince with animation. “As – suredly I shall go! And if only I could ve – venture to hope – oh! you be – witching child, charming, be – witching child!” And the prince recommenced to kiss Zina's fingers. The poor old man was evidently meditating going down on his knees before her.
“But, Prince,” began Maria Alexandrovna again, feeling that the opportunity had arrived for another display of eloquence. “But, Prince, you say, ‘If only I could flatter myself into indulging any hope!’ Why, what a strange man you are, Prince. Surely you do not suppose that you are unworthy the flattering attention of any woman! It is not only youth that constitutes true beauty. Remember that you are, so to speak, a chip of the tree of aristocracy. You are a representative of all the most knightly, most refined taste and culture and manners. Did not Maria fall in love with the old man Mazeppa? I remember reading that Lauzun, that fascinating marquis of the court of Louis (I forget which), when he was an old, bent and bowed man, won the heart of one of the youngest and most beautiful women about the court.
“And who told you you are an old man? Who taught you that nonsense? Do men like you ever grow old? You, with your wealth of taste and wit, and animation and vital energy and brilliant manners! Just you make your appearance at some watering-place abroad with a young wife on your arm – some lovely young girl like my Zina, for instance – of course I merely mention her as an example, nothing more, – and you will see at once what a colossal effect you will produce: you, a scion of our aristocracy; she a beauty among beauties! You will lead her triumphantly on your arm; she, perhaps, will sing in some brilliant assemblage; you will delight the company with your wit. Why, all the people of the place will crowd to see you! All Europe will ring with your renown, for every newspaper and feuilleton at the Waters will be full of you. And yet you say, ‘If I could but venture to hope,’ indeed!”
“The feuilletons! yes – ye – yes, and the newspapers,” said the prince, growing more and more feeble with love, but not understanding half of Maria Alexandrovna's tall talk. “But, my child, if you're not tired, do repeat that song which you have just sung so cha – armingly once more.”
“Oh! but, Prince, she has other lovely songs, still prettier ones; don't you remember L'Hirondelle? You must have heard it, haven't you?”
“Ye – yes, I remember it; at least I've for – gotten it. No, no! the one you have just sung. I don't want the Hir – ondelle! I want that other song,” whined the prince, just like any child.
Zina sang again.
This time the prince could not contain himself; he fell on his knees at her feet, he cried, he sobbed:
“Oh, my beautiful chatelaine!” he cried in his shaky old voice – shaky with old age and emotion combined. “Oh, my charming, charming chatelaine! oh, my dear child! You have re – minded me of so much that is long, long passed! I always thought then that things must be fairer in the future than in the present. I used to sing duets with the vis – countess in this very ballad! And now, oh! I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do!”
The prince panted and choked as he spoke; his tongue seemed to find it difficult to move; some of his words were almost unintelligible. It was clear that he was in the last stage of emotional excitement. Maria Alexandrovna immediately poured oil on the fire.
“Why, Prince, I do believe you are falling in love with my Zina,” she cried, feeling that the moment was a solemn one.
The prince's reply surpassed her fondest expectations.
“I am madly in love with her!” cried the old man, all animated, of a sudden. He was still on his knees, and he trembled with excitement as he spoke. “I am ready to give my life for her! And if only I could hope, if only I might have a little hope – I, – but, lift me up; I feel so weak. I – if only she would give me the hope that I might offer her my heart, I – she should sing ballads to me every day; and I could look at her, and look and gaze and gaze at her. – Oh, my God! my God!”
“Prince, Prince! you are offering her your hand. You want to take her from me, my Zina! my darling, my ange, my own dear child, Zina! No, Zina, no, I can't let you go! They must tear you from me, Zina. They must tear you first from your mother's arms!”
Maria Alexandrovna sprang to her daughter, and caught her up in a close embrace, conscious, withal, of serious physical resistance on Zina's part. The fond mother was a little overdoing it.
Zina felt this with all her soul, and she looked on at the whole comedy with inexpressible loathing.
However, she held her tongue, and that was all the fond mother required of her.
“She has refused nine men because she will not leave me!” said Maria. “But this time, I fear – my heart tells me that we are doomed to part! I noticed just now how she looked at you, Prince. You have impressed her with your aristocratic manner, with your refinement. Oh! Prince, you are going to separate us – I feel it, I feel it!”
“I ad – ore her!” murmured the poor old man, still trembling like an autumnal leaf.
“And you'll consent to leave your mother!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, throwing herself upon her daughter once more. Zina made haste to bring this, to her, painful scene to an end. She stretched her pretty hand silently to the prince, and even forced herself to smile. The prince reverently took the little hand into his own, and covered it with kisses.
“I am only this mo – ment beginning to live,” he mutterred, in a voice that seemed choking with rapture and ecstasy.
“Zina,” began Maria Alexandrovna, solemnly, “look well at this man! This is the most honest and upright and noble man of all the men I know. He is a knight of the middle ages! But she knows it, Prince, she knows it too well; to my grief I say it. Oh! why did you come here? I am surrendering my treasure to you – my angel! Oh! take care of her, Prince. Her mother entreats you to watch over her. And what mother could blame my grief!”
“Enough, mamma! that's enough,” said Zina, quietly.
“Protect her from all hurt and insult, Prince! Can I rely upon your sword to flash in the face of the vile scandal-monger who dares to offend my Zina?”
“Enough, mother, I tell you! am I – ?”
“Ye – yes, ye – yes, it shall flash all right,” said the prince. “But I want to be married now, at once. I – I'm only just learning what it is to live. I want to send off to Donchanovo at once. I want to send for some di – iamonds I have there. I want to lay them at her feet. – I – ”
“What noble ardour! what ecstasy of love! what noble, generous feelings you have, Prince!” cried Maria Alexandrovna. “And you could bury yourself —bury yourself, far from the world and society! I shall remind you of this a thousand times! I go mad when I think of that hellish woman.”
“What could I do? I was fri – ghtened!” stammered the prince in a whining voice: “they wanted to put me in a lu – unatic asylum! I was dreadfully alarmed!”
“In a lunatic asylum? Ah, the scoundrels! oh, the inhuman wretches! Ah, the low cunning of them! Yes, Prince; I had heard of it. But the lunacy was in these people, not in you. Why, why was it – what for?”
“I don't know myself, what it was for,” replied the poor old man, feebly sinking into his chair; “I was at a ball, don't you know, and told some an – ecdote or other and they didn't like it; and so they got up a scandal and a ro – ow.”
“Surely that was not all, Prince?”
“No; – the – I was playing cards with Prince Paul De – mentieff, and I was cleared out: you see, I had two kings and three quee – ns, three kings and two qu – eens; or I should say – one king – and some queens – I know I had – .”
“And it was for this? Oh, the hellish inhumanity of some people! You are weeping, Prince; but be of good cheer – it is all over now! Now I shall be at hand, dearest Prince, – I shall not leave Zina; and we shall see which of them will dare to say a word to you, then! And do you know, my Prince, your marriage will expose them! it will shame them! They will see that you are a man – that a lovely girl like our Zina would never have married a madman! You shall raise your head proudly now, and look them straight in the face!”
